Womb For Revenge
by neoxphile
Summary: When Mulder sees CSM again, he realizes that something has changed the man. A whole lot.


Author's notes: This is a sensitive, thoughtful piece about geriatric male pregnancy. I swear. Fair warning, lots of foul language ahead.

This is an oldie but badie. Why I'm posting it now will only make sense to people reading one of my wips, but not quite yet even for them...

* * *

Prologue:

When Krycek and the bitch stepped over him on there way out the door, the Cigarette smoking man wished he had a gun so he could shoot them both. The thing was, though, that since he'd been unceremoniously pushed down the stairs, he couldn't really feel his legs too good. Nor his arms, either.

So he silently fumed and watched them walk away. He thought about a lot of things as he laid on the floor like a squashed cockroach. Mostly about how maybe if he hadn't been such an asshole to his son, Fox William Mulder, the dumb shit might have been here by now doing his knight on white horse shick to save his old bony ass. CSM supposed that he hadn't thought ahead the way he ought to, which was surprising since most of his life had been spent upholding the principles of CYA.

Still, what was done was done. Now he was going to lie here on the floor, die, soil himself, and then be eaten by some wild animal because he could see that neither Krycek nor the bitch had bothered to shut the door. At least he hoped that the being eaten would come after the dying…he didn't really care when the soiling happened.

The worst part about dying was that he was bored. It seemed like he ought to be bored and sad, but he really was just bored. He'd never been so bored in his life. It made him wish that he would just hurry up and die to break up the enui.

A shadow crossed the threshold, and CSM felt hope for the first time since 1957 when he thought his favorite baseball team might have had a shot at the world series.

"Fox William, is that you?" the cigarette Smoking man croaked in his old ciggs and whiskey voice – the type Stevie Nicks had before she decided to go clean and ruined her career because she lost her bad but interesting voice in favor of a simply bad voice.

Laying there, he thought it was two much to hope that his idiot son, well the one he hadn't shot in the face, would come and save him from boredom. Um, dying.

Turns out he was right, because the figure who entered threw the open door wasn't Special Agent Fox William Mulder at all. It was tall and gray skinned, and it was looking down at him with cold black eyes.

"Oh fuck," the cigarette smoking Man moaned. "I thought I could get through my long miserable life without being probed by an alien."

The alien just shook his head and reached out for the old, broken, man.

* * *

Eight and a Half Months Later

Dana Katherine Scully stood in front of her mirror, ran her hand over her belly, and sighed. Deeply. The fact that her belly was as flat as ever deeply bothered her. She should be as big as a house by now. She should have seen herself wearing stupid clothing with a lot of ruffles and bows when she examined her reflection. But she was wearing tight jeans and the Green Day baby doll T-shirt that Mulder inexplicably bought her for her birthday instead.

She turned away from the mirror, sighing deeply again. When she had told Skinner back either May or August that she was pregnant it seemed to be true. At her insistence the pregnancy tests had immediately been done twice, and the result was positive both times.

As it had been every time the tests had been done over the past 8 1/2 months.

No one could quite explain why the tests kept coming back positive, but it was very clear from ultrasounds and other scans that there was no baby developing in Dana's cold, barren womb.

People in her life were taking the "news" in varying ways.

Her mother was bizarrely angry at her, apparently for getting her hopes up. Maggie's reaction was to two months ago burn all of the baby things that she had bought in anticipation of Dana's son or daughter. This had not led to a fight until Maggie accused her of creating Emily to solely to disappoint her. Then she said that Scully had probably suffocated the little girl with a pillow, and had just pretended that she had died from some sort of evil disease that produced green blood which anybody with a brain knew was completely and totally made up and probably a symptom of some sort of impending psychotic break down on Scully's part.

For some reason Maggie and Scully had not spoken for two months.

Skinner seemed to share Maggie's conviction that Scully was going completely insane, but because it became apparent one afternoon when Scully had gone up to Skinner's office and had found him and her scantily clad mother both flushed and embarrassed and hiding under his desk, that perhaps Maggie's opinion had rubbed off on him a little. He didn't have much to say about the issue himself, but he kept leaving her brochures about the FBI's insurance policy's mental health benefits. Although the pamphlets had helpful titles like "so your experiencing an imaginary pregnancy" Dana did not find them particularly good reading.

No one had ever told Doggett that she was supposed be pregnant in the first place, so he didn't actually have an opinion on the matter. Instead he spent his time trying to avoid being killed by giant bat creatures or horrible flesh eating diseases and subways. All of this made her like him a helluva lot better than most people that she spoke to. And also made her regret that she had told so many people that she was expecting a miracle baby.

Of course, the person who's opinion mattered the most was Mulder's. At first he hadn't had much of an opinion because he'd been kidnapped by horrible gray aliens and tortured for several months, but after he'd been buried alive and then dug back up, and then spent several weeks in the hospital unconscious, she told him that she was pregnant but there didn't actually seem to be a baby. He had just drooled a little and asked her who the hell she was.

This was because he had severe and tragic amnesia. He didn't even know who he was, which made Scully quite sad. But then she cried over him and he suddenly remembered everything, except he confused Frohike with one of the seven dwarves for a few weeks until the little man attacked him, and his head got cracked on a shelf full of the gunmen's crap, and he suddenly got that bit of his memory back too. The little man refused to tell him where his porn was stashed, and that made Mulder sad, but Scully happy, because she didn't like the idea of Mulder abusing himself, not with her not having got laid in months.

But anyway, that was months ago. Now we're talking about May. Or maybe March.

* * *

One morning, after Dana and Fox had sex on his desk, he gasped, and not just because Doggett was staring at them as they fixed their clothing. And it wasn't because he'd just come either, since he'd done that before their partner walked in on them. (sadly, she hadn't, neither before Doggett entered or just then.)

"Get off my desk, Dana Scully," Mulder said in a sheepish manner.

"Why are you on his desk anyway?" Doggett asked, looking a bit dim. It had been so long since he himself had had sex, he couldn't quite grasp the situation. There was faint hope that some hot chick he'd met but not slept with when his son had died back in 1993 or 1997, would come back into his life and help him remember, but that probably wouldn't be for a while, so he thought maybe they'd gotten their clothes dirty and had to change.

"Um…" Dana Katherine Scully demurred. "Sitting?"

Doggett shrugged. "I told you we needed more chairs. Three desks now, but still one chair. HR really doesn't like us for some reason."

"Yeah, but I have a case for us," Fox Mulder interrupted suddenly.

"What about?" Scully wanted to know.

"An odd pregnancy," Mulder told them both, adjusting the waist of his pants.

This made Dana sad, because she thought about the baby that should be growing in her cold barren womb, but wasn't. Still, she wiped her eye with the back of one hand and asked, "Demon babies again?" Mulder shook his head. "More babies with tails?"

"Really hairy babies?" Doggett asked, and they turned to give him a surprised look. "What, I read the case files once."

"N-nothing," Scully stammered. "It's just…I didn't think you could read. You know, being southern and all."

"People down south can read!" Doggett shouted, and his face was an interesting shade of red.

"That's not nice, Dana," Mulder admonished. "There are books written by southerners you know." He gave Doggett an apologetic smile. "You never met Scully's dad, but he was the most bigoted person against Southerners that I ever met-"

"When the hell did you meet my father?" Scully asked, also turning red.

"I don't remember, it was a long time ago," Mulder said evasively. "But you've got to admit he was a bigot."

"God dammit, Fox-"

"Anyway, I was saying that I've got a case, about an unusual pregnancy." Mulder looked at his red-faced partners, and wondered if either of them was going to hit someone. Maybe each other. May be him. "It's not that the baby is unusual. It's the fact that the person who is pregnant is. It's a man."

"Men can't get pregnant," Doggett pointed out.

"I know. But the tip I got said that the guy is definitely pregnant. We're supposed to go and check it out to confirm it."

"Who is this supposedly pregnant man?" Scully wanted to know.

Mulder just shrugged. Some old guy. They didn't say who."

"So not only is the guy pregnant, he's old? Doesn't that tip off your BS meter, Mulder?" Scully shrieked, thinking that it was so unfair that some old guy was going to have a baby when she couldn't.

Neither man said anything while they waited for her to finish screaming and stamping her feet.

"Well, kind of. That's why we're going to check it out."

"Who tipped you off?" Doggett asked.

"Um…a reporter, actually. He wanted to know if this was real before he made an ass of himself by reporting it."

"So he doesn't work at The Weekly World News," Doggett said.

"You read that trash?" Scully asked.

"I thought you didn't think I knew how to read-"

"I think he works for CNN. Anyway, here's the address. I'll drive."

"Why?"

"Because your feet don't touch the pedals, and we're not sure you can read," Mulder said patiently. Then he ducked punches.

* * *

Since it was a three-hour drive, a big bruise was coming up nicely on Mulder's shoulder, the one Scully once shot him in, by the time they pulled up in front of the house.

"I think this is the place," Mulder said, glancing again at the slip of paper the reporter had once given him. The addresses matched.

"This doesn't look like the type of place a pregnant guy would live in," Doggett muttered, looking up at the blue, two-story, clap-sided house.

"And what do you think a house that a pregnant guy would live in look like?" Scully asked, looking intently curious.

"I dunno, pink?"

Mulder marched up to the door and knocked loudly. A woman wearing a french maid's uniform answered. "Yes?"

"Are you the maid?"

The woman was affronted. "Do I look like a maid to you? No, I'm not."

"My bad." Mulder was flustered as he pulled out his badge. "FBI. We're here to see the man of the house."

"Man," The woman who isn't a maid scoffed. "Okay sure. I'll bring you to see him."

Without further ado, the three of them were led into a dark bedroom. Lying on the bed was a shadowed figure on its back, whose belly was very swollen indeed.

The woman clapped her hands twice, and the three of them turned towards her, wondering why. "Clap on, clap off, the clapper," she explained as light flooded the room.

A horrible, horrible coughing noise issued from the bed, so they turned and looked. Then Mulder swayed on his feet and sat on the floor blinking. Scully hadn't actually seen the guy's face, and was concerned about Mulder's reaction. She stood over him, taller for once and looked down.

"Fox, what the hell is wrong with you? I thought that you wanted to come here."

"He…He…"

"Mulder?" She allowed some warmth to fill her voice, and motioned for Doggett to help her. He shook his head so she shot him the evil eye and started to try to tug Mulder to his feet.

"He…He…" Mulder repeated, this time flapping a hand helplessly.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Mulder," Scully growled under her breath, then looked at "the guy."

"Ah! It's the smoking bastard!" Dana howled, dropping Mulder arm.

After hacking a few times, CSM put his cigarette in an ashtray and said "How astute of you, my dear."

"Don't you 'my dear' me. I still want to know how I got into pajamas the night you kidnapped me last year."

CSM just leered at her, making her shudder.

Having gotten to his feet, Mulder shakily approached the bed. Then he proceeded to rip off the blankets. CSM didn't protest until Mulder was pulling up his shirt. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded to know as Mulder began to poke at him with a rolled up magazine.

"It's real, then," Mulder said, dropping the magazine on Scully's head.

"Am I really knocked up?" CSM grimaced. "That, unfortunately is true."

"Who is this guy, Dana?" Doggett asked, speaking for the first time in ages.

"Our arch enemy," Scully told him. "And Mulder's dad."

"I thought Mulder's dad was a guy named Bill that Krycek killed a few years ago."

"This is Mulder's real dad, the guy who had an affair with his mother."

"Whose kid was Samantha?" Doggett whispered too loudly. Scully just shrugged, as far as she knew no one had ever asked themselves that before DNA was invented.

"Dad!" Mulder gasped in a strangled voice, and still not because he was having an orgasm. "If you're knocked up does this mean that I'm going to have a brother or sister?"

"Yes, exactly. I went back in time, got pregnant instead of your mother, and now I'm going to give birth to your sister Samantha."

"Really?" they all asked.

"Of course not, you stupid shits," CSM rolled his saggy baggy eyes. "This kid isn't even mine."

"Was Samantha?" Mulder wanted to know.

"Whose kid is it, then?" Scully asked when it was clear they wouldn't get an answer to Mulder's question.

"Yours," CSM told her. "Yours and Numbnuts' here." He pointed at Mulder.

"But how?" Scully cried.

"After Krycek and the bitch-"

"Fowley?"

"No, the other one."

"Phoebe?"

"Who the hell is Phoebe? No, the other one!"

" Marita Covarrubias?"

"Yes, that's the one. Anyway, after the pair of them pushed me down the stairs and left me for dead, an alien came and got me."

"You got probed?" Mulder asked, looking a little green. A drunk Krycek had once shown up at his apartment offering to give him an anal probe, and the thought had made Mulder a bit squeamish ever since then.

"In a manner of speaking. The bastards told me in my head that they were doing you and Dana here a favor, and I was going to play a part in it."

"What sort of favor?" Scully asked.

"Saving your figure, I image." CSM coughed. "They said something about catching you in Bellefleur for a few minutes and taking your brat out of you."

"Aliens stole my baby?" Scully looked crushed.

"Well, they didn't go very far with it," the old man griped putting his hand on his hugely extended belly. "They put the little bastard in me."

"You take that back!" Mulder shouted angrily.

"Take what back?" CSM looked confused.

"Don't call our baby a bastard."

"That's the common term for a child whose parents aren't married, son," CSM pointed out.

"And it's not true. I met Scully over the summer while still in college and we got married after I took her virginity. We drifted apart but never signed divorce papers."

"You never told anyone over the past 10 years that you're married?" his astonished father asked, lighting another cigarette.

"Nobody asked," Mulder said simply.

"Hey, wait a minute. Why the hell are you smoking? That's our baby you're harming with those things." Scully swatted the cigarette out of his hand. It began a small fire when it ignited the shag carpetting, but Doggett stamped it out.

"Oh, relax. The aliens have a funny sense of humor, and they won't let me inflict any harm on the little parasite. God knows I tried." CSM sighed. "The people at Planned Parenthood called a psych hospital when I went to them for an abortion. I nearly got caught by the men in white coats."

"I guess, in that case…" Scully lit a cigarette for him.

He took a long drag, then looked up at them. "Given the reluctance of medical personnel to respect my predicament, the question remains…how the hell are we going to get this thing out of me?"

"We?" Doggett asked. "Don't look at me, I just work with them."

CSM looked at Mulder instead. "I assume you want this baby, do you not?"

Mulder didn't know what to say, but Scully shouted, "Of course we do!"

"Yeah, sure," Mulder agreed.

"How about we do this now and get it over with?" CSM suggested.

"I don't know…" Scully's voice wavered. "How far along are you?"

"I think that depends on when your last period was," he pointed out. "This thing began life in your body, not mine."

She counted on her fingers. "Yeah, you're just about due. Have you had any contractions?"

"I don't have a uterus, how am I supposed to have contractions?"

"Good point. Let's go downstairs and do this."

"'This' being what, exactly?" CSM asked nervously.

"Um, cutting you open and removing our baby," Scully said, giving him a look like it was obvious.

"Have you ever done anything like this before?"

"Remove a baby from a pregnant man's stomach? Only in my worse nightmares."

"This is a unique case…" He still looked apprehensive. "Okay, let's do this."

"Boys, I'm going to need you to help him down the stairs," Scully commanded. "I don't think he'll make it on his own and I'm sure as hell too small to help him much."

Doggett and Mulder each grabbed him under an armpit and hauled him to his feet. When they did, it became even clearer how massive his belly was above his bony knees.

"Boy, are you fat," Doggett told him.

"Thanks, I practice."

"Nice muumuu," Mulder sniggered, looking at CSM's floral housecoat.

"Just get me downstairs, will you?"

* * *

By the time they dragged him down the stairs, Sully had already cleaned off the table and draped it with a white sheet.

"Get him up here."

"Why not upstairs, on the bed?" Mulder wanted to know as he and Doggett manhandled his father.

"And get those nice linens all soaked in blood?" Scully asked, waving a large knife she'd been pouring alcohol on. "And a hard surface like the table doesn't have the give that'd make cutting less precise."

"That's so reassuring," CSM said faintly as he laid back on the table.

"Okay, Mulder, you hold his legs down, and Doggett, you hold his pillow over his face."

"Why?" Doggett asked.

"No anasesia," Scully explained. "Don't worry, you'll pass out and won't feel a thing."

* * *

Just as she said, CSM was out cold by the time she made the first incision.

"Boy, that's a lot of blood," Mulder remarked, trying to see what she was doing.

"Yeah. Looks like he was right, I don't see a uterus, I'll have to be careful not to cut the baby."

"Good idea," he agreed, nodding vigorously. "We'll wait to find out if it's a boy or girl before deciding on circumcision. "

"What?" Scully asked, concentrating on hacking into CSM's belly. A small leg became visible as she cut through the man's stomach muscles.

"Holy god, remind me not to have you cut the bird at Thanksgiving," Doggett said as he watched.

"You think you can do a better job?"

"Um, no."

"Then shut the hell up, John."

Dana paused for a moment and groped for a washcloth after blood splurted into her eyes. "Oh that's gross," she muttered to herself.

After five more minutes of slicing with the knife she reached her hands into CSM's belly and pulled out a small bloody infant. "Looks like it's a boy. You can let go of his legs," she told Mulder as she handed the baby to him. "Hold him for a minute."

Mulder looked down at the slime-covered, bloody infant and felt his heart burst with love for the little creature.

Doggett, meanwhile looked at the baby form afar. "Man, this guy must have been eating like a pig, 'cause the baby is really small for how fat he got."

"Actually…" Scully pulled another infant out of CSM's belly. "Twins make you gain a lot of weight."

"Boy or girl?" Mulder asked gleefully.

"Another boy," Scully said. "Hey John, why don't you hold him while I cut the other one's cord and clean him up."

"Okay, sure," Doggett said, dropping the pillow. "Hey Dana, I don't think the old guy is breathing."

"Of course he isn't. You've been holding a pillow over his face for the past half an hour."

"But you said…" Doggett said in surprise as the second infant was put into his hands.

"Look," Scully said as she tied off the first baby's cord. "If I tried to explain to you that he's evil and had to die, you might have argued with me. This was the best way to off him without an argument."

"She's right you know," Mulder said just as her knife sliced through his first son's cord. "He'd of plagued us for years, hanging on just to make our lives miserable now that we're parents."

"Okay, I respect that, I just would have preferred a heads up when I'm going to kill someone."

"It was an acciden..." Scully said. "No wait, you weren't even involved. None of us were."

"What are you talking about, Scully?" Mulder asked as he washed the first baby while Scully tackled the other's cord.

"Take a good look at him."

"I'd rather not."

"No really, look at him. Doesn't the way he's all cut open now remind you of anything?"

"That exploding whale video on the internet?"

"One of our cases. The one where that alien thing ripped its way out of a guy."

"Oh, yeah, now that you mention it…"

"You two finish their baths, I've got something to do."

The men did as they were told, but kept sneaking glances at Scully. She had a piece of paper and was doing something with the dead man's hand. "Okay, all done."

They walked over, careful not to disturb the babies sleeping in their arms, and looked down. On the paper there was a message written in blood "arrgh, it's bursting out of me, I think I'm dying. CSM."

"Very nice," Mulder commented as she began gathering evidence that it wasn't what the note said up to burn. After pulling the sheet out from under the dead man she squeezed the blood out onto the floor and rolled him off the table to sort of sit in a chair.

"Aren't local law officers going to think this is an X-Files?" Doggett asked nervously as he bounced a baby in his arms.

"Count on it. I'm sure it'll be an easy case for us too, since we can make up whatever the hell answer we want," Scully told him.

"Don't we usually?" Doggett mumbled. "Hey, I think I saw some baby clothes upstairs," he said in a louder voice before Mudler punched him.

* * *

There were baby clothes and more up there, so Mulder and Doggett carted it all out to the car while Scully dressed her sons. Right before they left they discovered evidence that CSM suspected twins – there were two car seats in his walk-in closet.

"Oh, this makes things easier for mommy, daddy and uncle john, yes it does," Scully told the boys as she put them in the car seats and carried them out to the car.

"We're all set to leave, just give me a hand putting them in the car, huh?"

As soon as the babies were safely strapped into the legally acceptable infant passenger restraint system that came standard with their rental car, Scully got in back with the babies, letting Doggett sit up front with Mulder.

"So Dana, what do you think we should name our new sons?" Mulder asked, leaning over the driver's seat.

"Let's name them after our fathers," Scully cooed. "William and Liam."

"Um, that'd be giving them the same name, you know."

"Fuck you, Mulder."

"William and Liam it is."

The five of them drove away into the night, trying to figure out a way to explain how they'd suddenly gotten ahold of baby twins. And if it was okay to use nicotine patches on infants, since they refused to stop crying once they woke unless someone blew cigarette smoke in their faces.

As for CSM, he got his expectation about being predated fulfilled, since no one had shut the door to his house this time, either. The animals didn't even mind that he'd soiled himself.

THE END


End file.
